Death Race
by Black-Emperess
Summary: Human’s block their ears and cover their eyes to things out of the ordinary. Those who are considered UN-ordinary are regarded with fear and prejudice, tensions mount and people die. But Religion always wins. Why? Dietrich/oc


Ch1: Sinking the memories

_**The tempest in my mind**_

_**Doth from my senses take all feeling.**_

**~By Shakespeare I think~**

_Lets be honest, there is no way the order would want another human to play with,_

_Dietrich's enough *rolls eyes* therefore, I've gone for a more understandable route._

_Perhaps some will roll their eyes, perhaps some wont._

_Bare in mind, I've never seen anyone even hint at such an idea, so it's entirely mine, MINE I say!! XO So no stealie ya lil' buggers. (not that you will :3 I have nice lil' readers) Although you won't know what her purpose in the order will be until 2__nd__ chapter so… I do not own T.B (no not tuberculosis) so no suing necessary._

_The last passage that Isaac quotes is from a poem about the mother of all demons, Echidna. Sourced from wiki of course._

_Also, who do you ladies prefer? Dietrich, Isaac or Cain?_

_Dietrich: Oh joy, another writer making me ooc._

_Me: OOC? Hell no pretty boy._

_Dietrich: Pretty boy?_

_Me: You need reigning in ya manipulative bastard._

_Dietrich: Bastard? What does my parents marital status at the time of my birth got to do with any-_

_Me: Therefore your going to be a bitch._

_Dietrich: What the hell did you just say?!?_

_Me: Enjoy the show ladies! Cuz I doubt there are any males reading my shit, other than pretty boy over here._

_Dietrich: Wait, first I'm a pretty boy, then I'm a manipulative bastard, then a bitch, now I'm pretty boy again?!? Make up your mind you irritating terran!_

_Me: you're a terran, I'm a hume :P_

_Dietrich: *goes to use his strings*_

_Me: *Pull's out a live wire from the TV* Make my day punk. :3_

A modest fire crackled in an open hearth, its flaming gaze throwing out winding flickering light into the small cottage shaped home. There was something savage yet primal about an open flame that set a persons mind ticking. The sultry dancing of a flame wavering up and down, sputtering to the ground and sparking back to life. The heat warmed more of the house while the tiny little windows barely allowed any light inside to light up the inside, while the smell of fresh plants and flowers ran rife in the small room.

A haggard old woman in a frayed shawl fussed restlessly at her modest little table filled with many things that she had yet to deal with. Two younger girls, one a maiden, the other a childer, stood watching a safe distance away-or as safe as the small room allowed.

"Hm! Those useless men! They can't do anything for themselves!" raged the elderly woman who swept through the parlour of her simple little cottage like an enraged crone. Her gnarled fingers grasped at the hem of her skirts, and gave them a jerk here and there causing her great sagging chest to jiggle in turn. The bodice and its restraining capabilities was long lost from years of wear and tear, so her ample bosom was hardly kept in check, "Honestly! They don't take into account that I am training both Flora and Ditta!! The next in line to be coven leader! Its perfectly fine for them to waste **my** time with their constant arguments on who can piss the highest! But should a witch dare try and ask _them_ for assistance they complain like a group of prepubescent women!!" she spat at the table filled with numerous objects and harvested plants that were still dirt strewn from the roots that trailed wispy white entrails across the wooden table.

The scent those plants gave off was quite heady, some more pungent than others.

The black and white mog cat that been grooming itself next to the heather hissed and arched its back angrily as the old woman brushing the random items out of her way as she searched angrily for some object, "Confound it all!! Where did I put that blasted stone?!?"

It was a humble cottage-small on space, had no more than two rooms, but it was filled with various items to help the occupants get by. The kitchen was always billowing out steam at night from the banged up tin kettle and the large black cauldron that simmered away that nights dinner which had consisted of a generous stew. Tiny poke holes sufficed as windows were steamed up from the heat of the hearth, while the generous glow of the firelight lit up the small hovel.

In the corner stood two forms who watched the elderly woman's rampage from one end of the small kitchen to the other. One was clearly midway through puberty, with fresh faced skin dotted here and there was a freckle or two while her fly away hair of dark brown was tied back with a strip of material. Her clothing was typical of peasantry-a smock with a matty apron smeared with dirt from the days cooking and cleaning. Slender of frame and slight of hand, she held the younger girl at her side to prevent her from being run over by the elder. woman

The child, though small, did not seem fearful at the spectacle before her. With a short bob of black coloured hair and a presentable little smock which was also dirty in places from helping gather herbs and plants from outside, she did not flinch nor shy away from the mad mutterings of the woman. Dark eyes peered out from under the mop of hair as she spotted a glinting stone on the armrest of the wooden rocking chair.

Shifting out from her sisters grasp, the child retrieved the stone, marvelling at its smooth shiny surface. It was cold against her palm, and did not seem to heat from her own bodies warmth. The surface shone dark gray and silver-like metal before it was polished, "Is this it Granny?" her small gentle voice asked.

The elderly woman whirled, eyes wide and searching until she spotted the stone on the open palm of the child, "Ah, yes, that's it girl. That damned hematite can be such a devil when it goes missing-but it's a powerful stone. Gives you iron strong confidence so that you never waver under the heat of others questioning." bustling over the short distance she plucked the smooth rock from her hand and happily deposited it down her bust, much to the shock and revulsion of the elder sister.

It was hard not to be horrified by what the woman did-but she was kind hearted, even if she was rather crude. With a huff, the middle of the three patted the child's hair, "And why is it that they have summoned us?"

"Another cock fight." the old woman responded carelessly.

A cringe erupted on the woman's face. Sometimes the vulgarity worried the girl more than the unpredictable rage the grandmother was adept to delivering in good hearty smacks-which would no doubt be administered to the men who had sent for them at one in the morning. It was no wonder the elderly lady was so irritated.

The young girl, scuttled forward and twisted her hands in the front of her smock. Uneasy and unsure for what she was about to say would probably get her yelled at-or worse, disciplined, "Um…Granny?"

The wispy haired old woman barely paused as she shovelled two bunches of elderflowers into her large bag, "What is it?"

"Um…Can…"

Granny stopped her gathering and fixed her stare on the girl, "Well girl? Spit it out!!"

Any other child would have flinched away from such vehemence, but not this one; she was used to the elder woman's harsh personality and seemed well worn into the mannerism of a calm unshakable individual, "Will you be teaching me how to make the paste anytime soon?"

"What? Yes, yes of course! But not now-read from the book on what plants to gather and we shall discuss the ins and outs on the morrow." she paused, thinking, then her wrinkled old face cracked into a smile, "Ha!! 'Ins and Outs' I say! How quant for what I am about to deal with-Damn warlocks and their stupid fighting over some woman. She is only a half penny short of being a woman of the night, what care they for some talent-less whore of the wilds?"

"Ms Euphemia! Please!! The child!"

"Flora do not be so prudish-you and I know well that she'll have to learn about **that** sooner or later." the elderly woman snorted in response, busily dumping objects, a coloured stone or two along with a plucked flower.

Flora frowned at the woman and hugged the child close before chastising her elder, "I'd rather later than sooner!"

They talked about this from time to time and Ditta never understood quite what it was about a guy pushing something into a girl that made Flora so flustered. But a child's mind worked differently than an adults. The most she got out of an adult was that a man and a woman would _have a special hug_ (provided by flora) and that they would do it _naked_ (Granny). Even though the child didn't know what all the fuss was about, she loved asking what it **was** about and how Flora's face would flood red like a poppy-and promptly begin stuttering about strange things like '_the birds and the bees'_. Ditta didn't know what the birds and the bees had to do with a man hugging a woman naked, but apparently it was a good and a bad thing depending on who you were talking to.

Both the Maiden and the Crone fussed around the young child and spoke of things that Ditta was much to young to understand. Grasping their meaning was harder for her than other children, for education was not available for the likes of these individuals. But they always said the same thing, _keep a balance in all things. If you take from the earth, you must give back to the earth. Kindness must be repaid with kindness. Give without the intent to receive. Strive to make even in everything you do and you will live happily._

There must always be a delicate balance of three. The Maiden, The Mother and The Crone. The child was not yet at the ripe age to be considered a maiden, her sister of sorts seemed to fit that bill much more snugly, but there was still time for growth and learning.

Flora blew a few wayward strands from her face and knelt down to stroke her little sisters hair. The long silky locks were always so soft and fluffy, like the downy fluff on a baby chick, she loved Ditta's hair, and Flora worried incessantly about leaving the young girl home all alone, "Alright now, Ditta, do not answer the door to anyone who may knock-"

Granny made a noise of annoyance as she pushed her wispy hair back in a knot before tying a piece of reed around it, "Don't baby the girl, she has more common sense than both of us combined. Now child, Hugo will be coming round before he does his chores to check on you, so if anything happens-not that anything will-tell him. He will sort it out."

Flora pursed her lips; sometimes granny blew off the most important things and made out serious subjects to be nothing more than a bee in a ladies bonnet. Honestly, didn't the elderly woman worry at all? "There is also plenty of stew there for your breakfast. If we're not back by mid day then have the stew for lunch and dinner. Should we be kept any later than seven, go to Hugo's, do you understand?"

A strong nod from Ditta earned a smile from the old lady, "Good girl."

"Be good now, ok Ditta?" Flora called as she and Granny left the home. The child pushed the latch in place and made sure it was secure. It was a heavy metal latch, one that would be hard to break even by three grown men, and Ditta shivered at the cold metal's touch before stuffing her hands in her frock to warm them again.

Smiling at nothing in particular, the little girl climbed onto the large rocking chair, fixed her skirts, then pulled a thick leather bound book off the floor. Settling it on her lap, she flipped open the first few pages and smiled at the loopy scrawl printed across the aged paper, "Lavender for soothing and calming minds, mint for-"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Light flooded her eyes and the body immediately flinched from the invasive contact to the retina. Disorientation made her thought patterns fuzzy while her eyes limply opened and closed a few times-the same thing greeted her as confusion skirted around the edges of her mind.

Muffled bubbles **blooped** up around her, and did not pop until it hit the top of the tank where in they would disappear.

Red.

Warm yet at the same time cold.

_How can it be cold?_

Simple. Because it was a prison.

She couldn't remember how it all began. In that tank, with the bubbles filtering up through the faucets below her like a fish's glass domed home. She knew little of how or why she was even there. And yet, all she could see through the thick glass separating her from the outside world were blurred images of people robed in white with heavy muffled voices. Even the distinct tapping noise accompanied sometimes by steady rapping became normal. But that constant _bipping_ noise was rather maddening.

They called her Demon. They called her Monster, in the earliest times she was named Shaetore which means 'she who brings death' but mostly known during the 21st century as Lilium and during the renaissance before that it was Jezebel, that name, among others, summed up her existence in a neat little package donned with a cute fluffy bow. She was seen as a blight on humanity and now, all she knew of her past life was all she had for company within her watery cocoon.

Naturally she was not completely alone; figures on the other side of her prison would move around daily, their noise welcome though muffled in her cage.

Each murmur, every croon, every tap to the glass, seemed to further depress her, for the words themselves were hollow with promises of sweet freedom and ascension to perfection which she knew was an aspect that never existed. Even her state now dictated their true intentions. She had never done anything to try and escape, mainly because they had used leather belts with brass buckles to tie her up. These were helped along by thick rubber lines that were tied and wrapped half-hazardly across her body-most notably, they were connected to the outer casing of the tank, like suspending wires to prevent her from floating upwards or sinking downward. Should she stretch, her limbs would be stopped short. Should she fidget even the slightest, her skin would blaze with pain and tightness around her body, struggles were feeble and pointless. Either way, this uncomfortable treatment had reduced her to adopt a foetal position in order to gain some form of comfort.

This position, adopted for a time, did not instil cramps, or aches, or pains-she had a sneaking suspicion that there was some kind of pain reducing stimulant in the water that removed such discomfort. It wasn't like that in the beginning, but her memories of that time were vague and untrustworthy as a floating cloud. The solidity of her memories were becoming sparse, and those memories she could remember, she relived in her meditative state religiously in order to keep them fresh and true, lest the clear red liquid sapping the power from her limbs sap those memories away too.

She spent her day listlessly filing through her memories-or adopting a meditative state were she would imagine she were far away in a field of flowers or some such thing. Reliving memories was something she tended to do often for it helped her forget that she was a hostage. It was comforting even when the reality itself was far from her grasp.

There were times when she tried to make out her warders through the glass. Differentiating them was mainly a fine art of telling the pitch's of light and dark tones of their hair, and the length, height, broadness, or narrowness of their frame. This was her only way of knowing or recognising a familiar warder. The reason why she couldn't see properly was assumedly the work of the chemicals in the water, not just the glass. Maybe it was to protect the identity of her captors? Again, she did not know the full reason. All she knew was that the moving blurs were alive and solely responsible for her current state.

Some would move close enough to the glass so that she could almost make out their features, _almost _being a generous term given that they were taking to tapping the glass to receive some form of response from the entity dwelling within whose senses were dulled from their meddling. Even the light that filtered down through the crown of metal bubble was dimmed, she wondered vaguely if her eyesight had suffered damage.

**Bip...Bip…Bip**

Today; or tonight, she had no way of telling the difference; she had dreamed of her life as a youth. The days of her childhood had been pleasant, and her guardians, amusing. But that pleasant life had been destroyed at the tender age of thirteen.

The woman in the tank thirsted.

Not for food, the water surrounding her seemed to remove the need to feed completely just like her other senses. No, she thirsted for freedom. She yearned for the feel of soil between her toes, the smell of lush vegetation-the simple cur of a bird as it swooped overhead. Yet, at the same time, there was nothing out there for her. Ceri, the cat, had been dead for a very long time. The last of her living links to her past life. It had been a long lived link that she was distraught to lose. Her blood had only been able to keep the cat alive for so long and she had not expected it to burst into flames the way it did… Any relatives of people since past had not the chance to give birth to descendants, no children were able to flourish and grow before giving birth to more generations of humans to populate the earth ever further. There was nothing left of her prior life; time and religious fanatics had seen to that. Nothing was left. Not a spec. So it was just as well that she was in a hollow cocoon of red coloured water.

Movement from the other side drew her lazy eyes to the glass.

One of the warders had moved close, apparently he was a new addition, for she had not seen him as regularly as others. She could only make out black, a thin smile, and even darker spots were the eyes were. The black of his hair blotted out his forehead, shoulders, and even parts of his hips-his hair was strangely long for a male. Longer perhaps, than even her own, which if memory served, was rather choppy with an array of long and short tresses. It had once been extremely short, but her stay in her prison changed that.

The man was tall. Taller than the others. Broad of shoulders and narrow of waist-or so she could just about guess from the buttoned up white coat, his hair also mocked her with its ability to blend parts of his body into the ensuing blackness of the background. But those globes that she believed to be his eyes, were transfixed on her face. Staring back seemed to be like the right thing to do-until she started hearing things.

_Relax._

The voice issued in her head;

_No harm will come to you._

Lies.

Though pain she could not feel, she knew that she herself could be harmed.

A voice, thick with an accent she was unfamiliar with let loose a round of humoured laughter and the thick honey sound made her think of a black hole sucking in all things around it.

_Trust in me my little raven, your captivity ends today._

Liar.

All humans were liars! Sleep, yes, that's what do-she'd sleep and the voice would go away.

_I'm not human little raven, but do rest, you have a long night ahead of you._

It had been relatively easy to infiltrate the organisation. The addle brained twits of the Precursor of the something or rather had taken one look at his long list of accomplishments and pounced on him like rabid animals. His knowledge was vast, his cruelty worse than a demon and his eyes, as flat and as black as a ravens plumage were enough to see him through any probes into his past which had been fabricated from the beginning by yours truly. Isaac was no fool, and he was not one to do things half assed.

These men wanted power and he gave them it. Money to fund their experiments, access to vast libraries to expand their knowledge and anything else they required. All was provided. Naturally he needed something in return. A little payment as it were. But simply demanding it would get him nothing but a lab with jumpy scientists barricaded inside as they refused to release his interest. Infiltration, manipulation, chronic lying and money was needed.

It had been even easier to manipulate all those around him into doing exactly what he wanted-it seemed his protégé wasn't the only one who could bend humans will like a pipe cleaner. But time was still needed to get closer to what he wanted and now here he stood, before the glass womb that was slowly nurturing his greatest prize. The slothful pigs around him had no idea what they were doing. Making an already strong entity even stronger-such a delicious and pragmatic thing for megalomaniac's to participate in.

The gaudy white coat he had to wear showed the large plastic identity card which flashed incessantly whenever even a shred of artificial light struck it. And the distinct scent of unwashed humans assaulted his nostrils, but it was worth it. To glimpse the female in all her glory was a wonderful thing in itself even if he did have to repress a few creature comforts. He wished for the crisp taste of his cigerello's and the paunchiest smirks twisted his features softly as the man elegantly shifted from one foot to the other.

This little gem, hovering in her little chamber of glass and sparkling red water; she was like the forbidden fruit upon the tree of Eden and she was completely unaware of it.

The sound of boots tapping on the shining tiles signalled the approach of his 'companions'.

"Isn't she beautiful? Twenty years of hard labour, all for this precious little seed." one of the two scientists laughed on either side of Isaac. One had unruly brown hair matted with grease and grime from too many late nights and not enough bath's. Bad hygiene irked him more than the man himself.

"She's a bewt all right. But I wonder how much longer we'll all have to wait." the other hailed from somewhere up north and his accent was thick with it.

Each scientist threw a thrifty glance at each other, greed sparking in their eyes along with a tint that indicated a madness that had been bestowed upon their wretched heads the second they sold their souls to the devil for their scientific research.

It was typical really. Terran's in general were typical. They would imprison any being that sparked their interest or instilled fear in the masses in order to dissect every conceivable inch of the poor blighter in order to see what made it so special. OR, in this particular case, try to augment that special trait and make it stronger-then, when the time was right, they would test their little experiment and see if their hard work had been worth all the long arduous nights spent pumping chemicals into the chamber to keep the experiment going.

Hmm…Test. Now there was an idea.

The slim fingers curled around Isaac's chin in amusement as he stared at the female semi suspended in her little chamber. It _was_ ironic that an arcane user would take interest in some low level spell caster, but if his informant was correct, and he didn't believe he was; this mere spell caster was on par with he, the panzer magier. Such a person would be ideal for their little organisation. But even better were the rumours of what she could do-mainly her _blood's_ components.

The one on the left grinned greedily, "Perhaps we should test her soon. Let her loose in a little village and see what she does?"

The ochre haired male shook his head in a negative much to the disparaging look of the former, "We haven't received orders from the top. Going behind their backs wouldn't be a good idea, after all, whoever funds this will want a front row seat to the festivities. Think on how pissed they'll be if we go ahead and do as we please."

"who cares? She's our experiment, we decide what to do with her."

Isaac had had enough, "Sorry, dear gentlemen, but I am afraid that this little raven belongs to the Rosencrantz."

A few sets of eyes turned on him. Their gaze burning holes in his tall elegant body as he pulled one of his cancerous sticks from his breast pocket, placed the end delicately in the corner of his lips and lit the end with a flicker of his fingers.

Breathing in, the fast working nicotine washed through his lungs and into his bloodstream, calming his nerves considerably as the humming of the cryogenic chamber sounded more and more like a hive of angry bees.

"I beg your pardon? Sir Isaac, I do believe you've been deep underground far too long; your talking nonsense." the leader of the motley demons stepped forward, his hand patting the taller mans shoulder in a show of companionship. Isaac's narrowed glare was upon the offending limb within seconds. The audacity of some people. Did they truly think he were a lowly grunt? An addle brained researcher who pandered to everyone's tiniest whims?

His smile having slipped off in his bemusement of being touched by the lowly wretch, soon sparked to life again, "Tsk tsk. I do not recall ever being close to you Donald-after all, your just a cocksure terran. And I? I am the beginning of the end of your little world. Pity really, I almost enjoyed the time we spent together. Almost."

With a flick of his wrist, the air in front of him rippled and the floor-gave birth to gnarled entities with black forms. It was like watching a melted candle replay its dying moments in reverse; like melted wicks reversing backwards and giving their forms new life, these black creatures welled up from the ground, first the heads, the shoulders, arms and the rest of the body followed. Their devil red eyes and sharp features glared hungrily at the stunned congregation, right before they launched at their prey, twisted roars tearing from their unholy gaping mouths.

Savage hands with perceptively sharper nails raked the forms of the scientists who gave loose head splitting screams before they were savagely silenced in sickening displays of arcing red which splattering the walls, equipment and floor. The men's faces contorted in a sick display as the last images burned into their minds were the demonic entities that tore them to pieces as if they were made of silly putty.

The demons immediately set upon the glass chamber, their strong fists beat on the glass, spidery cracks caking the surface in their effort to pop the cocoon. Isaac's patience dwindled as he muttered a few incoherent words under his breath and he made a sharp gesture towards the chamber. Energy came rushing from the tall man, invisible to the naked eye but it could be felt and if any human had been left alive in that room they would have felt their flesh prickle with Goosebumps.

The glass shattered easily under the pressure, and the wave of crimson came crashing outwards. The mini tidal wave rushed past him and soaked his pants-not that he cared, they were easily replaced, but the _shoes_, dammit it all he had only just worn them!

"Tsk." flicking his finger like a maestro to a band, Isaac instructed his demons towards the case where they grasped the thin black spires of plastic and ripped them apart with glee, not that their expressions ever changed. They looked like mini gargoyles no higher than a mans waist with a murderous toothy scowl etched permanently into their features.

Low disturbing chuckles escaped Isaac as he exhaled a steady stream of smoke which wafted a few feet in front of him before disbursing in the air. Glass crunched underfoot as he approached the shattered glass womb that held his 'enfant' hostage-such a strange thing that this prize was so small, and so fragile looking. His examination of the woman done, Isaac curled one hand under her middle back and with the other, made a cutting motion to the last few strands of black which immediately severed by some unknown force.

Cradling the woman carefully, Isaac carried her from the prison, glass crackling underfoot while he found a suitably clean table upon which to lay her. She was so impossibly small. Smaller than he, definitely a delicately formed little thing with pale skin, dark hair and a small smooth mouth. It seemed it was no wonder that she was captured so easily, now that he thought about it he never did find out how a group of terran's managed to subdue the little lady-not that those were beyond his reach, after all, he had the little dear before him and he could easily ask her himself.

Severing the belts hold around her, he immediately pulled each piece away with methodical little tugs and jerks before tossing each one aside. As he worked, a passage from a book he read once long ago floated up from the banks of his mind. Smoke issued from between his parted lips and twisted upward in an arcane display, "_The goddess fierce Echidna who is half a nymph with glancing eyes and fair cheeks_-" he reached out to brush aside some of the dark hair from her face, "-_and half again a huge snake, great and awful, with speckled skin, eating raw flesh beneath the secret parts of the holy earth._"

His long fingers, snapping each black cord and slowly unwound them from her body in a methodical yet gentle manner, "_And there she has a cave deep down under a hollow rock far from the deathless gods and mortal men. There, then, did the gods appoint her a glorious house to dwell in: and she keeps guard in Arima beneath the earth, grim Echidna, a nymph who dies not nor grows old all her days._ I have come for you."

**Ah crap. My spellcheck changed the org's name -_-' sorry. And this seemed kinda…short. Its 8 page long…Anyhoo, moving right along, ch2 will have the puppet master's first appearance. Hope you liked it so far and see you next chapter my bubbly little readers! Drop me a line while your at it!**


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